


Desolate

by DragonflyonBreak



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonflyonBreak/pseuds/DragonflyonBreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He would make himself disappear for a few years - make himself forget that he was nothing in this world - that not a single person could see him or even knew that he was there. ' Set before the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desolate

It happened every couple of decades.

When the weight of his reality grew too heavy and his facade of being the happy go lucky trickster began to wear thin and when his ability to laugh faded with the wind.

He would make himself disappear for a few years - make himself forget that he was nothing in this world - that not a single person could see him or even knew that he was there. That the other spirits and immortals either didn't care what he did or just wanted nothing to do with him, period.

Winter was cold. Winter was dark. Winter was only worth the effort of ignoring.

Why would they associate themselves with an unruly, irresponsible, bringer of cold and death and _white_? Colorless, lifeless, nothing, _nothing_ white.

Despite his best attempts, it would all get to him eventually. The pain and the loneliness.

Every couple of decades, he'd stop seeing the fun in tricking people who couldn't laugh with him. He'd stop his snow days and his snowball fights and even his annual prank or snowfall on Easter meant to irk Bunny specially.

Everything would stop and he would leave to the abandoned, freezing deserts at the bottom of the world where he was completely alone in a wintery world that only he loved.

And he would stay there, staring out at the never ending, snowy white landscape until he could once again see the beauty of his creations. When his snowflakes were once again something he took pleasure in making, even if no one recognized the work as his.

He'd remember how it felt to _enjoy_ the powerful, thrilling strength of a blizzard and to not be wary of its potential consequences brought by the other immortals who would only seek him out to express their displeasure and tell him no more.

He would stay until that wonder and joy he felt at the sight of his delicate frost patterns returned to him and he began to look forward to spreading them around the world once again. When ideas for new tricks and games he could start would begin to break through the empty, blank wall he'd allow his mind to become in his desire to forget everything, would he begin to consider heading back to civilization.

And when everything that he kept bottled up inside ebbed away, when he had cried his tears and screamed his anger and frustration out to an unforgiving world and everything became a dull, almost unnoticeable pain once more and the desire to have fun awakened inside him... that was when he would leave his sanctuary and head back to the fold to try again.


End file.
